Serendipity
by Neville's Girl
Summary: My first complete N/H romance. This has a bit of everything -- a dance, kissing, fighting, magic (of course), and *bum bum bum BUM*!!! Neville actually performs a spell without messing up!


A/N: We all know that I don't own these characters. That's been established at least  
15,000 times. As for this story, I know that Neville and Hermione couldn't possibly   
get together, but, as I'm an advocate for Neville stories of all types, I thought a N/H  
romance would be fun. I think I first read about in with Magical Little Me's story.   
Anyway, sorry I haven't written in so long. This story is a combination of my 3 N/H  
romances. I then added quite a bit to finish up the story. So, if you've read my 3 N/H  
stories, the new part begins about halfway down, I think. If you haven't read any of my  
stuff, welcome! Anyway, enjoy this. I'm actually quite proud of it. Without further  
ado ... Serendipity!  
  
Everyone has days where they ask themselves why they even bothered to wake   
up. Neville Longbottom was having one of those days. It seemed that everything that   
could go wrong that morning, did. When he got out of bed, he made the unpleasant   
discovery that he didn't have any robes. Seamus and Dean had hidden them somewhere,   
and when, after 30 minutes of frantically tearing around Gryffindor Tower dressed in his   
hand-me-down purple bathrobe that was 2 sizes too big and his well-loved (but still   
warm) fuzzy sheep slippers, he discovered them on the ceiling of the Common Room,   
their normal somber black now a bright and cheery pink. As he stared up at them, jaw   
agape, Fred and George Weasley sauntered over to him.   
  
"Need help, old boy?" asked George, clapping a brotherly hand on Neville's   
shoulder.   
  
"Yeah," replied Neville, relief practically dripping from his voice. "I forgot my   
wand in my room, and I'm running a bit late."  
  
"Say no more!" exclaimed Fred in a loud and cheery voice. He pulled out his   
wand and the robes came down off the ceiling and landed in Neville's waiting hands.   
  
"Oh, thank you ever so much!" Neville breathed, and promptly turned on his heel   
and tore off back to his room to change.   
  
"Hey!" called George.  
  
Neville halted and whirled around. "What?" he gasped out.   
  
"You look a little stressed. Try one of these," George said fishing into the pocket   
of his robe, and tossing what looked like a red cough drop at him.   
  
Neville stared at it for a moment. It looked harmless, so he popped it in his mouth.   
A few seconds later, he felt his hair raise on end, and Fred and George shouted with   
laughter. Neville, fearing the worst, gingerly touched his hair. Sure enough, it was   
standing straight up. He ran to a mirror. It was also a hideous red. "AAGGHH! What did   
I eat?" Neville yelped, turning to look at Fred and George with horror-stricken eyes.  
  
George had a very serious look on his face. "Neville, we're not quite sure what   
you ate. It has no name."  
  
Neville whimpered and touched his hair again.  
  
Fred couldn't take it anymore. He began laughing again. "Actually, old boy, it's   
just something that we cooked up last week. It turns your hair a mood-appropriate color.   
You know, blue if you're calm, red if you're upset, yada, yada, yada. You were our   
guinea pig."  
  
"Will it go away soon?" Neville asked desperately.   
  
"Well, it should in a couple of hours. Of course, your hair might even fall out.   
Who knows? Well, breakfast calls. See ya," said Fred, and with that, the twins went in   
search of food.   
  
"There's really no way you couldn't," Neville muttered. He sighed in dismay and   
began to walk away to get ready. Unfortunately, one of his fuzzy sheep was entangled in   
his purple bathrobe, and he fell in a heap on the floor.   
  
He decided to just stay on the floor, hoping everyone would think he was dead   
and just step over him. He idly wondered if maybe there was some sort of spell that he   
could do to make the floor swallow him up, and no one would be the wiser. Had they   
learned a spell like that? He began to curse his weak memory, but was interrupted by a   
shrill call.   
  
"Neville?!?" yelled Hermione Granger in alarm.   
  
Oh no, Neville thought. Please, not Hermione. Anyone but Hermione. He tried to   
burrow deeper into the floor. He desperately wished he could remember that Camouflage   
Charm, they'd learned last week, but at this point, he'd settle for Harry's invisibility   
cloak.   
  
"NEVILLE!" shouted Hermione. There was an edge of panic in her voice. Neville   
decided that he'd better acknowledge her soon, before she drew even more unwanted   
attention to him. He unwilling raised his scarlet head.   
  
She grinned as she took in his bright hair and tragic face. "My God, Neville, you   
look like the Weasley from Hell."  
  
Neville quirked his mouth in annoyance. "Oh, ha ha. Very funny."  
  
"What happened to you?" she asked, still smiling, as she held out her hand to help   
him up.   
  
As she pulled him to his feet, he related all the morning's events. "So that means   
these are yours?" she questioned as she picked up the pile of pink fabric off of the floor.   
She tried to keep her face straight for his sake, but she failed miserably.   
  
"Yeah," he replied sadly. "Hey!" perking up, "Is there any way to make them   
black again?"  
  
Hermione was going to open her mouth to say that it was really quite a simple   
spell, but whether it was pity, or something else that made her refrain from her typical   
comment, who can say? She instead said, "Sure, Neville," and with that, the robes   
became black, and he rushed back upstairs to change and try to do something with his   
hair.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
When Neville emerged 15 minutes later, he decided that denial was the best   
policy. Despite numerous attempts to hide his vermilion hair under his hat, nothing   
worked. It was just too big. He valiantly sat down at the breakfast table, and, trying to   
appear oblivious to the blood-red halo surrounding his head, nonchalantly speared a   
sausage. He inwardly prayed that it was early enough that no one would notice. No such   
luck. Ron's orange juice came out his nose, and he had to be escorted from the table,   
clutching a napkin to his nose. Harry choked on his bacon, and Hermione had to give him   
the Heimlich, because the rest of the table was roaring with mirth.  
  
Eventually, everyone calmed down, but there were still the occasional chuckles   
whenever anyone glanced at him. He began eating his pancakes with the air of a martyr.   
Hermione felt rather bad for him, so she tried to cheer him up by making small talk.  
  
"So ... do you have a date for the Christmas dance?" she asked. She mentally   
slapped herself. Why'd I ask that? I don't care if he does or not. Really. REALLY.  
  
Neville groaned and slapped his forehead. "Ack! No, I completely forgot." A   
pause, then, "Will you go with me?" He quickly became absorbed in cutting his   
pancakes. Idiot, he yelled at himself. Why'd you go and say THAT? She turned you   
down the last time. Why would this time be any different?  
  
Despite all the doubts, he still hoped that this year would be different. She was   
always kind to him, trying to help him pass Snape's class with a minimum amount of   
pain for everyone involved. Not to mention her spirit and intelligence. And she was   
pretty, too. That never hurts, the little voice in his head added.   
  
Hermione, meanwhile, felt her cheeks flush almost as brightly as Neville's hair. She   
reached for her goblet of water, which she knocked over in her nervous   
state. Flustered beyond all hope of speech, she blushed even deeper and began to silently   
mop up the liquid with her napkin. Sometime over the years, Neville had, in   
her estimation, gone from Annoying-Clumsy-Dolt to Cute-And-Rather-Endearing-If-  
Somewhat-Accident-Prone. She didn't know when or how it happened. It was just there.   
And now, with Neville's question, it was there flashing in neon lights in her mind.   
  
Neville noticed her discomposure. He desperately hoped that it meant that she   
really liked him, not that she was buying time to find a way to tell him no. His agonizing   
and anxiety was finally rewarded when, after she cleaned up her mess, she sat back down,   
looked at him with shy brown eyes, and whispered, "Yes."  
  
Neville sat there, stunned. His happiness had paralyzed him. After about a minute   
of this, Hermione began to be a bit worried. Was he okay? He wasn't moving. Was he   
even breathing? "Neville?" she asked, shaking his arm a bit.  
  
He immediately broke out into a huge grin. "You said yes," he said in awe.  
  
She smiled back. "Yes I did, you twit. Do you have anything to wear?"  
  
"What do you mean? Aren't normal robes okay?" he asked innocently.  
  
"Neville, we're supposed to dress up like it's a Muggle formal," she explained   
patiently. "That's the theme."  
  
"Oh," he said. "So, what do I wear?"  
  
She sighed impatiently. Cute or not, too much cluenessless can be annoying. "A   
tuxedo," and seeing he was going to ask something else, continued. "Harry and Ron are   
going into London the day Christmas Break starts to get theirs. You could go with them."  
  
"Oh. Sounds good," he replied, going back to his pancakes, because, even if   
you've just had your secret desire fulfilled, cold pancakes drenched in syrup still suck.   
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Harry, Ron, and Neville bravely set out a few weeks later to go scour London's   
shops in search of the perfect tuxedo. At least, Harry was. Ron and Neville had absolutely   
no idea what a tuxedo looked like and would've happily come home with argyle vests   
and tweed jackets with matching paisley bowties.  
6 exhausting hours later, all 3 had decided on what tux they wanted. Harry had   
chosen one with a dark green cummerbund and tie. Ron, not really finding anything to   
compliment his orange hair, and rather miffed that he couldn't buy a tweed jacket,   
decided to go with the traditional black and white. Neville, with the aid of Harry's   
impeccable fashion sense, picked one with a deep red cummerbund and tie. Luckily, his   
hair was back to its normal sandy brown shade. The boys got on a bus and made small   
talk on the way back to Hogwarts.   
  
"So who's your date, Neville?" Harry asked with a twinkle in his green eyes.  
  
Neville swallowed with some difficulty. "Hermione," he said in a small voice.  
  
"What?!?" Ron shouted. In anger or in happiness, Neville couldn't tell.   
  
"You're not mad, are you?" Neville asked weakly.  
  
"'Course not. You guys'll be cute out there," Ron said, and Neville could tell he   
wasn't angry at all. He sighed with relief.  
  
"Besides, I'm taking Cho Chang," Ron continued with a wolfish grin. He waggled   
his eyebrows suggestively. Neville and Harry burst out laughing.  
  
"How'd you ever get her to go with you?" Harry asked, still chuckling.  
  
"Easy," Ron said. "I asked her before anyone else did."  
  
"How much before?" Neville questioned.  
  
"Oh, just before Halloween, I think," Ron said reflectively. Harry and Neville   
laughed again.  
  
"What about you, Harry?" asked Neville, wiping away a tear or two.  
  
"Ginny," said Harry. He blushed a delicate pink. Neville saw it, but declined to   
comment.  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
The big night arrived. Neville managed to get into his "monkey suit", as Ron   
called it, without ripping anything. "How do I look?" he asked, turning to his roommates.   
  
"Lookin' good," called Seamus. "Sure you don't want pink instead of red for that   
cummerbund? I really think it's your color."  
  
"Don't even think about it," Neville replied. Seamus shrugged, then went back to   
adjusting his tie in the mirror.  
  
A few minutes later, the boys all walked down to the ballroom to find their dates.   
Neville nervously wiped his sweaty palms on his pants, searching the crowd of people for   
Hermione. Then ... he saw her. She's gorgeous, he thought in awe.   
  
Hermione was standing next to Ginny, wearing a navy blue floor length dress   
with gentle swirls of silver sparkles all over it. She had silver elbow gloves on, and her   
hair was held in place with a diamond barrette. Small raindrop shaped diamonds hung   
from her earlobes.   
  
"Damn, Neville," whispered Harry in his ear. "You are one lucky guy."   
  
Neville agreed with him. "Don't get any ideas," he whispered back. "She's my   
date."  
  
"Don't worry," Harry grinned. "Did you see my date?"  
  
Neville did, but privately thought that Ginny couldn't hold a candle to Hermione.   
He just stood there, taking her in, when Harry abruptly left his side and went up to Ginny   
and Hermione. They all began talking and laughing. Neville desperately wanted to join   
them, but his feet felt nailed to the floor. Summoning all his will, he managed to detach   
his feet from the floor and walk over to the group.   
  
"Hi, Hermione," he said shyly. "You look nice tonight." Understatement of the   
century, he thought.  
  
"So do you," she replied, blushing furiously. She also thought that that was the   
understatement of the century. His hair was back to its normal blondish-brown, and it was   
slightly rumpled, as usual. The dark red tie and cummerbund brought out his gray eyes   
wonderfully. His face had lost its babyish roundness. Altogether, Hermione was thanking   
her lucky stars that Neville had asked her to the dance.  
  
Ginny, noticing Neville and Hermione couldn't take their eyes off of each other,   
nudged Harry, who was trying his hardest not to laugh at the dreamy expression on   
Hermione's face. "What?" he asked her.  
  
"Let's go dance," she suggested. Then, in a lower voice, "Hopefully, they'll follow   
us before they make a public scene." She grinned.  
  
Harry smiled back. "Shall we, my lady?" he said gallantly, holding out his hand.   
  
"We shall," she laughed. She took his hand, and he led her onto the dance floor.  
  
After a few minutes, Neville and Hermione noticed that Harry and Ginny were   
gone. "Oh," said Neville, just remembering where he was (he had been lost in   
Hermione's eyes), asked, "Do you want to dance?"  
  
"Of course," she smiled warmly up at his beaming face. She took his elbow and   
he escorted her onto the dance floor.   
  
She took his hand with some worry. She knew her delicate silver shoes wouldn't   
stand being stepped on very many times. Despite that, she took his hand with a bright   
smile, and they began to dance. After a few minutes, she realized that he was surprisingly   
good. The shock must have shown on her face, because Neville began chuckling softly.  
  
"Surprised?" he asked slyly.  
  
"About what?" she replied coyly.  
  
"I'm not tripping all over you," he observed.  
  
"Well," she said reluctantly, "I must admit that I was a little worried."  
  
"Gran made me take dancing lessons at some Muggle school until I started   
Hogwarts," he explained. "She thought it might give me a little poise and grace, but it   
didn't really work. I'm still quite clumsy." He laughed apologetically.  
  
"Not on the dance floor," she grinned. In reply, he dipped her so low she was   
afraid he might drop her.  
  
"Ahh! Stop! Uncle!" she cried, laughing. He pulled her up, a broad grin on his   
face.  
  
"Are you hungry?" he asked.  
  
"Are you?"   
  
"Well, yeah." He cleared his throat nervously. "I didn't eat much at lunch."  
  
"Nerves?" she asked, with an impish gleam in her eyes.  
  
"Yeah," he replied. "C'mon. The feast awaits." He led her off the floor and into   
the festively decorated dining hall. Evergreen garlands were hung everywhere, and   
hundreds of candles added a warm glow to the merry scene. Their admiration of the   
decorations was cut short by Harry, Ginny, Ron and Cho Chang hollering loudly to get   
their attention. They quickly sat down next to them. Everyone turned and they began   
chatting as they ate. Neville stole what he thought were subtle glances at Hermione every   
five seconds and felt that life couldn't possibly get any better.   
  
After dinner, they sipped punch and shared what they wanted to do after   
Hogwarts. Harry wanted to play Quiddich for a while, then become an Auror. Ron was   
going to work for the Ministry, as was Cho. Ginny still had a year to think about it.   
Hermione was going on to do some advanced Transfiguration work at a magical   
university. She wasn't sure what one yet, but she had a couple in mind. Everyone then   
turned and looked expectantly at Neville. "Er -" he said. He really had no idea what he   
wanted to do, but he had to think of something fast to impress Hermione. "Um ... I'm   
going to do some work in Advanced Herbology," he said. He had never really thought of   
the issue before, but Advanced Herbology didn't sound that bad.   
  
"That's wonderful, Neville," Hermione said warmly. Ron rolled his eyes, until   
Cho kicked him under the table.   
  
"Thanks," he smiled. "Do you want to dance some more?" He wanted to distract   
her (and himself) from his uncertain future for a bit.  
  
"I'd love to," she replied, getting up from the table.  
  
"Uhh . are you sure you want to go so soon?" Harry asked, concerned for his   
friend's toes. Thinking quickly, he thought of an excuse to hold her back. "You didn't   
finish your punch."  
  
Hermione understood what he was getting at. "I'm not thirsty anymore," she said   
sweetly. Neville took her hand and lead her out of the hall, blushing furiously.  
  
"Wow," exclaimed Ron. "She's got it bad for him, if she volunteers to be   
trampled on by the klutziest boy of all time."  
  
Harry nodded.  
  
"Hey, he might be a good dancer," Ginny defended.  
  
Harry, Ron, and Cho just laughed. "Yeah, right," said Ron.  
  
"Let's go see, shall we?" suggested Cho.  
  
The four went out into the ballroom to settle the dispute. Ron's and Harry's jaws   
dropped when they saw Neville gracefully waltzing with Hermione. They watched in awe   
for a while. After ten minutes, Ron whispered to Harry, "He hasn't ONCE stepped on   
either her dress or her feet."  
  
"I noticed," Harry replied. He was unable to take his eyes off the happy pair. "It   
almost makes you want to just not go back out onto the floor for the rest of the night.   
I can't believe I'm saying this, but Neville's making us look bad."  
  
"Yes, he is," laughed Ginny, taking Harry's hand, "But I'll take what I can get."   
She steered him onto the dance floor. Ron and Cho reluctantly followed.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Neville could hardly believe when the night was over. After the last dance, he   
regretfully lead Hermione off the dance floor and walked her back to Gryffindor Tower.   
They chatted a bit on the walk back.  
  
"Did you have a good time?" he asked shyly.  
  
She sighed gently. "Yes, I did."  
  
He smiled in relief. "Me, too."  
  
A bit of a silence, then ... "You're an amazing dancer," Hermione said.  
  
"I was taught that the partner made the dancer," he said gallantly. He looked at   
her. Even in the moonlight, he could see her cheeks redden.   
  
"Thanks," she whispered.  
  
As they reached the Common Room, the bells struck out struck out midnight.   
Neville realized it was Christmas. "Merry Christmas," he said, daring to give her a hug,   
"And thank you for a wonderful night."  
  
He had just turned to go upstairs when she said quietly, "You're not going to   
break tradition, are you?"  
  
"What do you mean?" he asked, understandably confused.   
  
She pointed at the ceiling. A large sprig of mistletoe hung above them. He looked   
at her, wondering if he dared. He had never kissed a girl before. What if he was bad?   
What if they bumped noses? After a split-second decision, he grinned. "Who am I to   
break tradition?" He took her into his arms, and gently, his lips met hers. It was better   
than he had ever hoped for. (I think it's safe to say that Neville had nothing to worry   
about.)  
  
When they broke apart, Hermione blushed again, kissed him quickly on the   
cheek, and whispered, "We'll have to try out more traditions like that tomorrow."   
  
"ARE there any more traditions like that?" Neville asked playfully.  
  
"I don't know," Hermione said impishly. "But won't it be fun to find out?"  
  
Neville nodded. Hermione chuckled. "G'night," she said as she made her way to   
the stairs. "Sweet dreams," she called over her shoulder.  
  
And, that Christmas night, Neville Longbottom did indeed have sweet dreams that   
had absolutely nothing to do with sugarplums or fairies.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Neville woke up the next morning humming. He sat up, stretched, and noticed that   
everyone else was sound asleep. How could they? he wondered. Kicking off the covers,   
he stood up in his bed and made a running leap onto Harry's bed. "Oof!' Harry groaned.   
"Neville, what the hell are you doing? What time is it, anyway?"  
  
Neville glanced at the clock. "Um . 6:49." He grinned. "Merry Christmas!" he said.  
  
Harry glared at him. "You're lucky it's Christmas, Longbottom, otherwise, I'd kill you   
where you stand." He reluctantly sat up and put his glasses on.  
  
By this time, the rest of the boys were wide awake and eagerly launching themselves at   
the piles of presents at the ends of their beds. Neville jumped back over to his own bed   
and eagerly grabbed a present off the top of his pile. The card said it was from Hermione.   
He tore it open. It was a book of Muggle poetry. He was staring blankly at it when   
Harry swooped down and took it from him. "Hmm," Harry said, leafing through the   
book, "101 Love Poems? I take it the date went well last night." He looked up at   
Neville's sheepish face, and laughed. Ron, Dean, and Seamus whistled. Taking pity on   
him, Harry tossed the book back.   
  
After all the presents were opened, and wrapping paper was strewn everywhere, the boys   
decided to get dressed and go to breakfast. Neville was a little nervous about going   
downstairs and seeing Hermione. What if she didn't like his present? What if it was too   
much? His thoughts were interrupted by their arrival at the dining hall. He sighed as he   
caught sight of Hermione. She was wearing his present -- a moonstone pendant. It glowed   
warmly in the hollow of her throat. Noticing his arrival, she smiled at him brightly and   
indicated an open place next to her.  
  
"She walks in beauty/like the night of cloudless climes and starry skies/and all that's best   
of dark and bright/meet in her aspect and her eyes," Harry quoted to Neville.   
  
"What?" asked a confused Neville.  
  
Harry laughed. "You'd better get to work on those Muggle love poems."  
  
Neville sighed despairingly. "Great. Another subject to remember."  
  
Harry had noticed how much softer and happier Hermione became around Neville. "Oh, I   
think that she'll make it worth your time," he said, patting him on the shoulder.   
  
Neville smiled hopefully at Harry, then went to take the seat by Hermione. "How did you   
sleep?" he asked, reaching for the pitcher of milk.  
  
She smiled. "Very well, thanks. And you?"  
  
"The same. Did you like my present?" he asked in a slightly worried tone.  
  
"Oh, it's wonderful!" she said warmly, gently touching the shining pendant, "And did   
you like mine?"  
  
"Oh, well, yeah, I did," he said quickly. Too quickly.   
  
She raised her eyebrows. "What? What's the matter?"   
  
Neville blushed. "Well, I like it. A lot. But, well, I'm horrible at remembering things." He   
played with his hash browns and refused to meet her eyes. If he had, he would've noticed   
the large smile on her face.  
  
"Neville," she said. He refused to look up. "Look at me," she commanded. He   
unwillingly raised his gray eyes to meet her brown ones. "I figured we could learn them   
together. Teachers always say you learn best with a partner."  
  
He laughed and took her hand in his. "Hermione, will you be my study buddy?" he asked   
in a dramatic voice. He batted his eyes for emphasis.   
  
"Not if you bat your eyes like that," she said. "It looks like you've got some sort of a   
twitch."  
  
"How come girls can bat their eyes, and look seductive, but when guys do it, they look   
like they've 'got some sort of a twitch'?" he asked in a grumpy voice.  
  
"Because I said so," she said authoritatively. "And that's that," she said quickly, seeing   
he was about to argue.  
  
He shrugged. "If you say so," he replied and began working on his omelet.   
  
Ron, who had been silent up to this point, now chuckled at the new couple's   
conversation. "You better learn now, Neville, that Hermione has yet to lose an   
argument. I'm speaking from bitter experience." Hermione stuck out her tongue at him  
in response.  
  
Neville didn't want to dwell on the fact that he was now doomed to never get the better of   
Hermione in an intellectual conversation. He didn't really care. To lose to such an   
opponent was all right by him. He'd rather be her boyfriend than debating partner any   
day. Switching gears, he asked of Ron and Harry, "So, how'd the rest of your nights go? I   
didn't see you guys after dinner."  
  
Ron laughed. "That's because you were lost in your fair partner's eyes."   
  
Both Neville and Hermione turned to look at each other, blushing deeply.  
  
Harry decided to be merciful and not tease them. "Well," he replied, "Ginny and I had a   
great time." Hoping to distract Ron from his Neville/Hermione TortureFest, he continued.   
"And she's a GREAT kisser."  
  
His words had the desired effect. "Aaagghh!" yelled Ron, covering his ears. "Too much   
information!!"  
  
Thank you, mouthed Hermione to Harry. He grinned at her, eyes twinkling merrily. He   
then sat back in his chair and smirked at his red-haired friend. "Just telling it like it is. I   
should ask Cho if it runs in the family."  
  
"Does what run in the family?" asked Ginny, as she and Cho sat down.  
  
"Good kissing," Harry said. Ron's face was as red as his hair.  
  
"I'd say it does," giggled Cho.  
  
Ron hid his face in his arms. "I'm gonna pay you back, Potter," he muttered.   
  
Harry waggled his eyebrows. "Are you suggesting a duel, Ron?" He began to reach for   
his wand.  
  
"No, I'd never beat you with a wand," Ron sighed. His face lit up. "But with a syrup   
pitcher, I might have a chance." He quickly grabbed the pitcher and emptied it over   
Harry's head.   
  
"Oh, boy, you're in for it now!" Harry growled playfully, and a platterful of cheesy eggs   
emptied themselves down Ron's robes. A full-fledged food fight broke out. Neville and   
Hermione quickly ran out of the hall, laughing at the sight of Harry trying to lick the   
syrup dripping off his face, and Ron trying to shake gobs of eggs out of his robes.  
  
"So what do you want to do now?" Neville gasped out when they were safely in the   
Common Room.  
  
"How 'bout a study session?" Hermione asked.  
  
Neville was about to groan, but then he realized that she meant with that new Muggle   
book. "Sure," he said. He went to fetch the book, and they situated themselves in a couple   
of overstuffed armchairs by the crackling fire. "Did you have anything in mind?" he   
asked, flipping through the pages.   
  
"I'm kinda partial to Shakespeare," she replied. He quickly turned to the right page. He   
began to read aloud.  
  
Let me not to the marriage of true minds  
Admit impediments. Love is not love   
Which alters when it alteration finds,  
Or bends with the remover to remove.  
O no! It is an ever-fixed mark   
That looks on tempests, and is never shaken;  
It is the star to every wandering bark (a/n: a ship),  
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.  
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks   
Within his bending sickle's compass come;  
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,  
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.  
If this be error and upon me proved,   
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.  
  
Hermione sighed appreciatively. "That's my favorite sonnet."   
  
"It's really good," Neville agreed. He looked on the next page, and grin broke out on his   
face as he said, "But I think I like this one better: 'In faith, I do not love thee with mine   
eyes, For they in thee a thousand errors note'..."   
  
He would've have continued, but a well-aimed pillow hit him square in the face. "Hey!"   
he protested, his gray eyes twinkling with mischief, his lips in a pout.  
  
Hermione laughed. "You sure know how to win a girl's heart, don't you, Neville?"  
  
He walked over to the chair and pulled her to her feet. "I knew how to win the right girl's   
heart," he whispered. She stood up on tiptoes and kissed him softly.  
  
When they pulled apart, she said, "I don't think it was skill. I think it was just pure   
serendipity."  
  
He laughed. "Probably. I'm not going to question it, though."  
  
"Smart boy," she said as she laid her head against his chest.  
  
"Hey, give me some credit," he said as he put his arms around her.  
  
She wished the moment would never end. She had never felt this warm and well-loved   
before. In a flash, she knew that she and he were meant to be together.   
  
Neville sensed a change of mood. "What's the matter?" he asked as he burrowed his face   
into her hair. It smelled of vanilla and honeysuckle. It smelled exactly like how he   
thought she should.  
  
"It's weird. We're moving really fast," she said. "I could see myself spending the rest of   
our lives together."  
  
"Why's that weird?" Neville asked. "Or do you mean, weird with me?" She looked up   
and saw his eyes twinkling.  
  
"I had my life all planned out," she said, ignoring his joke. "I was going on to the   
university after graduation, and become a successful academic at some posh school."  
  
He was silent for a few minutes. "You know," he said thoughtfully, still holding her   
close, "sometimes, things just happen randomly to us. You can't explain them, you just   
choose whether or not to go with them or not. I guess my next question should be, do you   
want to ride this out with me?"  
  
She burrowed deeper into his chest. "Mmm . Yeah, I think I will."   
  
His breath came out in one surprised whoosh. "Wha- Really?"   
  
She looked up at him, grinning broadly. "Why are you so surprised?"  
  
Neville shrugged. "It's just that I've always been the loser. You know, 'Oh God,   
Professor Snape! PLEEEASE don't pair me up with Neville! He can't do anything!'" he   
said in an eerily accurate Draco voice.   
  
Hermione looked up into his eyes. "Neville, you're not the same boy who melted his   
cauldron bottom every other week anymore. You've changed. Matured. And I'm sure   
that if your parents were here, they'd say the same."  
  
Neville quickly ducked his head, but not quickly enough for her observant eyes. She   
could see that his gray eyes were bright with tears. She quickly decided to change the   
subject.   
  
"You know, Neville," she said, grabbing the book of poetry from his hands and tossing it   
onto a nearby table, "It's getting too deep in here. It's Christmas, after all. Let's play a   
game." She smiled up at him.  
  
He quickly wiped a hand across his eyes and turned to look questioningly at her. "A   
game? Like what?"  
  
She was at a loss. All she'd wanted to do was distract him. She rummaged around in her   
head for a couple of moments, desperately trying to think of something they could do,   
when she found herself saying, "Getting to Know You." Getting to Know You? she   
thought. Where the hell did that come from?  
  
Neville's face lit up.  
  
"The G-rated version," she quickly added, noticing the look on his face.  
  
"Oh, fine, party pooper," he replied, plopping in an armchair and pretending to pout.  
  
She gave him an innocent smile and sat down in the armchair next to his. "You go first,"  
she ordered sweetly.  
  
"All right," he said, rubbing his hands together in mock-anticipation, " My middle name's   
Francis, I have no other pets besides Trevor because I accidentally kill them all, and my   
new favorite color is brown," he said, looking deeply into her (you guessed it: brown)   
eyes. "Your turn."  
  
"You charmer," she laughed, playfully punching his arm. "Fine. My middle name   
is Sophia, and besides Crookshanks, I have a pet ferret named Edgar, and my favorite   
color is burgundy."  
  
They continued on, sharing every detail of their lives with each other. They didn't even   
notice that the entire afternoon had passed. "Wow," Neville said, looking at his watch,   
"it's 6 o'clock. Did I win the game?" he asked, looking down at her with a smile on his   
face.   
  
She thought for a moment. It was a loaded question. "Yeah, you did," she said, standing   
up.  
  
"Did I win anything?" he asked.  
  
"Only me," she said, smiling up into his face. He immediately broke out into a huge grin.   
  
"Cool," was his only comment.  
  
"That's it?" she asked in playful indignation. "I say that you've won me over, and all you   
have to say is 'cool'?!?"  
  
His eyes twinkled merrily as he replied, "Hey, give me a break. We've been going out for   
less than a day. I'm sure you'll build up my vocabulary as we go along."  
  
"Yes," she said. "I think it'll be fun."  
  
"Fun!?!" Neville said with mock-horror in his tone. "Oh, no!" He dramatically put the   
back of his hand to his forehead and sighed.  
  
Hermione stood up on her tiptoes and whispered, "Hopefully, you'll get more than a   
bigger vocabulary out of this relationship." She waggled her eyebrows and walked out of   
the room.  
  
Neville stood there for a few moments after she had left, staring after her. He chuckled   
softly. "Cool."  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Harry couldn't help smiling every time he saw Neville for the next few days. He was   
walking on air (literally). He went to classes, ate meals, even slept, three inches above the   
earth. Not even Snape ridiculing him could make him come back to earth.   
  
"And we all thought that he was practically a Squib," Ron remarked, shaking his head in   
wonder as an elevated Neville floated by them at supper.  
  
"I guess that Muggle cliche is true, after all," Harry said reflectively. "I always thought it   
was a load of bollocks."  
  
"What're you talking about?" asked Ron curiously.  
  
"I dunno. There's some song or something about love being magical. I thought it was a   
bunch of crap, but Neville seems to be proving it wrong."  
  
"It's a good thing he is," Ron replied. "He needs all the help he can get, what with those   
N.E.W.T.s coming up. I think love's about the only thing, aside from a miracle, that   
could help Neville change a football into a hedgehog."  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Things were wonderful for about a week, until Draco Malfoy decided to make his make   
his views of the relationship known.   
  
Hermione and Neville were sharing a quiet lunch when a shadow fell across the table.   
Neville looked up to see Draco looking down at them with a combination of amusement   
and contempt on his pale face. "You want something, Malfoy?" he asked shortly.   
  
"Just one thing," Draco sneered. "I want to give you a little piece of advice."  
  
Neville raised his eyebrows in disbelief. He shot a questioning look at Hermione, who   
looked as confused as he felt. "What is it?" he asked cautiously.  
  
"Look," Draco said, lowering his voice to a whisper and turning his back to Hermione, "I   
know that you're a borderline Squib, but you're still a Pureblood, and there's no reason   
why you have to be with this little know-it-all Mudblood. Do yourself a favor, and find a   
nice PURE witch," he said, turning to smirk at Hermione.  
  
Neville became pale with anger. "Please leave," he said in a flat voice.   
  
Draco didn't move. "You know, Longbottom, you don't have to put on this show just for   
the Mudblood."  
  
Neville stood up so quickly that he knocked over his chair. Hermione jumped. "Please,   
Neville," she pleaded, "Let's just go ."  
  
Draco's cold silvery eyes glittered dangerously. "Better listen to the Mudblood," he said.   
"She's smarter than you, but, then again, that doesn't take much."  
  
Neville sized Draco up almost casually. Draco is a few inches taller, but I've got at least   
twenty pounds on him, he thought. My God, am I going to get into a fight? With   
Draco?!? He didn't really want to fight. He tried again. "Please leave," he said through   
clenched teeth. "Please?" he asked desperately. He balled his fists up tightly   
at his sides in spite of himself.  
  
Draco noticed Neville's hands and smiled broadly. "You won't hit me," he said smugly.   
"You haven't got it in you."  
  
As soon as the words left his mouth, Neville's fist connected with his jaw, sending him   
sprawling to the floor. "I'm not the same Neville I was in our 4th year, Draco," he said   
mildly. "Now, apologize to Hermione."  
  
Instead of answering, Draco launched himself at Neville. The pair went crashing into a   
table, sending plates and silverware flying. Heedless of that, Draco began punching   
Neville wherever he could: face, chest, stomach. Neville managed to get his foot in   
between him and Draco, and, putting it square on Draco's chest, pushed him as hard as he   
could. Draco went flying onto a neighboring table. He lay there for a minute, completely   
winded and shocked that Neville was actually holding his own in a fight. This hesitation   
gave Neville the chance to pull him off the table and throw him to the floor. He placed   
his foot on Draco's shoulder to pin him there. "APOLOGIZE TO HER!" he yelled down   
at him.  
  
Draco gasped for breath. He realized that he couldn't physically win this fight, but there   
was always magic ...  
  
Neville saw Draco go for his wand. He swore. There was no way he could compete   
with Draco magically. He ran and ducked behind an overturned table just in time. The   
curse hit the table and it burst into flames. Holy cow, he thought. He's using some pretty   
dangerous stuff here! He took a quick mental inventory of what he knew. The Jelly-Legs   
Curse was the only thing that came to him. He groaned. "I'm toast," he muttered. "Oh,   
well, at least I'll die doing something chivalrous." He jumped to his feet, wand ready, and   
shouted, "What the hell are you doing, Malfoy?"  
  
"I was just about to ask the same thing," said Dumbledore, stepping over some shattered   
plates with a very serious look on his face. Hermione was at his side, eyes wide with   
shock at the scene before her.   
  
  
Neville and Draco froze. The only sounds in the room were Hermione's breathing and the   
crackling and popping of the burning table. Everyone who was eating had long since fled   
the scene. Dumbledore broke the tense silence by saying, "Neville, Draco, to my office, if   
you please."  
  
Professors McGonagall and Snape chose that moment to walk in. They looked around the   
room in shock. It was absolutely trashed. "Oh, my," said McGonagall, completely   
stupefied.  
  
"LONGBOTTOM!!" roared Snape. "You've done it this time! 100 points from   
Gryffindor!"  
  
"Now, hold on a minute," Dumbledore said calmly. "Before you do anything rash,   
Severus, let's find out what happened. It's fortunate that you and Minerva arrived when   
you did. As the Heads of House for Neville and Draco, you should join us up in my   
office. We were just heading that way."  
  
The teachers and Hermione listened intently as the 2 boys told their stories. They pretty   
much matched up, except for the end. Draco denied that he had pulled his wand first.  
  
"Even if he did, he had reason," Snape pointed out nastily. "Neville threw the first   
punch."  
  
"But he had good reason!" Hermione protested. "Draco kept calling me a Mudblood and   
then practically dared Neville to hit him!"  
  
"Be that as it may," Dumbledore sighed, "Fighting is still not allowed. I will let your   
Heads of House take care of the problem, and deal with it as they see fit. I trust it will be   
fair," he added, looking pointedly at Snape.   
  
"Of course, Headmaster," Snape said. "Now, Draco," he said, turning to him, "Report to   
the Hospital Wing and have Madam Pomfrey take a look at you." Both Draco and Snape   
glared daggers at Neville and Hermione on the way out.  
  
McGonagall smiled slightly at Neville. "Who won?" she asked.   
  
Neville looked at her, shocked. "What?"  
  
"Did you beat him?"  
  
"Well, sort of. At least, until he started using his wand," Neville sighed. He noticed that   
he was having trouble seeing out of one eye, and it hurt to breathe.   
  
"Little cheating rat," McGonagall muttered under her breath. Neville wondered if he   
heard her right. "Well," she continued in a louder voice, "For fighting, I'm going to have   
to take 10 points from Gryffindor, and you'd better report to Madam Pomfrey, too. That   
eye looks like it hurts."  
  
Neville touched it and winced. "It does," he said.   
  
"C'mon, Neville," Hermione said, taking his hand and leading him to the Hospital Wing.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
The news that Neville and Draco got into a fight spread through the school like wildfire.   
To add to the effect, Madam Pomfrey refused to treat the minor injuries, like the black   
eyes and cut lips, saying, "Maybe it'll teach you not to fight next time." So Draco went   
around with a swollen lip and a huge bruise on his jaw. Neville didn't look any better. He   
had two black eyes and a cut on his cheek from where a broken piece of plate had   
scratched him.   
  
"Wow, Neville," said Ron, looking at his injuries with admiration, "I didn't think you had   
it in you. Serves that little ferret right, though," he added with a satisfied grin.   
  
"Neville, you are now the coolest person I know," Seamus said. "I'm glad someone   
finally beat the crap out of that spoiled little brat."  
  
"You shouldn't have fought him, Neville," Hermione said angrily. "He could've   
seriously hurt you. Did you see that table? That could've been you."   
  
"But he did it for you, Hermione," Harry pointed out. "And you did a damn fine job,   
too," he said to Neville with a gleeful smile.  
  
"Well, no one actually won," Neville said.   
  
"Eh, that doesn't matter," said Dean. "I heard that you did a flying kick right into his   
chest! Is that true?" he asked curiously.  
  
"Well, not exactly," Neville said, "What actually happened was -"  
  
Hermione exploded. "Neville, Draco was going to set you on fire! Doesn't that mean   
ANYTHING to you?"  
  
The boys, Neville included, looked at her blankly. She sighed in disgust. "I can see it   
obviously doesn't." She grabbed her bookbag. "Neville, I don't think I can see anyone   
who is so reckless. If you don't care about what happens to you, how do I know that you   
care anything about me?" And with that, she swept out of the room without so much as a   
backward glance.   
  
Neville watched her go, completely stunned. "Oh, no," he murmured. "She doesn't really   
mean that, does she?" He looked around the table, but they refused to meet his eyes. "She   
does," he said in a hopeless voice. He put his head in his hands and felt his heart slowly   
shrivel in his chest.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Neville let things go for a few days, deciding that giving Hermione some space would be   
the best thing. After a week of the cold shoulder treatment, though, he couldn't stand it   
anymore. Just before the Transfiguration lesson began, he confronted her. "Hermione,"   
he said, taking her by the shoulder and turning her around, "How long is this going to go   
on?" He looked desperately into her expressionless brown eyes.   
  
"Forever," she said, shrugging off his touch as if it was a rather unpleasantly large piece   
of lint. She turned back around and began to pull out her books in preparation for class.  
  
Neville felt his heart freeze. "You don't mean that, do you?" he asked anguished but   
quiet voice, in deference to the class that was just about to begin. "You know that I'm   
sorry, Hermione. You also know that I hate to fight, but you must know that I couldn't let   
Draco get away with such a horrible insult against you. Please, PLEASE forgive me," he   
whispered urgently, taking her hands in his and holding them tightly.  
  
"Neville," she said irritably, "Let go. I gave you a chance in the Common Room a week   
ago, and you let it pass you by. I said we're through, and I mean it," she said with   
finality. "Now, please, I need to get ready for class," she said, resuming her bookbag   
rummaging.   
  
Neville stood there for a minute, hoping that what he had just heard WASN'T what he   
had just heard. When Hermione pointedly ignored him, though, he realized that he truly   
wasn't wanted. He swallowed the lump in his throat and went to sit with Harry, Ron, and   
Seamus at their table. "I tried, guys," he said hollowly, putting his head in his hands.   
"She hates me."  
  
"It's only been a couple days, Neville. Maybe she needs more time," Ron said, trying to   
make him feel better.   
  
"Maybe," he said doubtfully.   
  
He tried to focus on class, but thoughts of Hermione were too thick in his anguished mind   
for him to transfigure his geranium into a cat. After a few failed attempts, the only thing   
that had happened to his plant was that it exploded into flame. All the class except Harry,   
Ron, Seamus, and Hermione laughed at him. The boys tried to help him put it out.   
Hermione didn't even look in his direction. Since the class was caught up in the action,   
no one noticed a couple of small, discreet tears fall silently onto her black robes.   
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"It's never a dull day with you around, Neville," sighed Harry at dinner that night,   
glancing at the holes burned in his robes with a sorrowful face.   
  
Neville smiled apologetically. "Sorry, mates. I had my mind on other matters." His smile   
quickly faded, and he sighed as he looked down at his plate, idly pushing peas around his   
plate.  
  
"Has she come around yet?" asked Dean.   
  
He shook his head and furtively glanced at Hermione. She was laughing and chattering   
with Ginny. How could she be so happy? he wondered. She's acting like she hasn't just   
ripped my heart out of my chest with her bare hands and held it up for everyone to see.  
  
Over with Ginny and Hermione, the situation, deep down, wasn't that different.   
Although Hermione was chattering and laughing, Ginny noticed that she wouldn't stop   
talking, and that her laughter seemed forced. She cut Hermione off in mid-sentence.   
"When are you going to finally forgive Neville, Hermione?"  
  
Hermione looked as though Ginny had punched her in the face. "I'm not," she said after a   
few minutes of silence.  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because he's reckless. And foolhardy. And -"  
  
"Perfect for you," Ginny finished.  
  
Hermione glared at her. "That's not what I was going to say."  
  
"I know. But you know it's the truth."  
  
"No, it's not!" said Hermione indignantly.  
  
"Then why are you still wearing the moonstone pendant he gave you for Christmas?" she   
asked with a twinkle in her observant brown eyes.  
  
Hermione fingered the necklace. "I don't know," she said, with a faraway look. "I'll just   
have to take care of that." She got up from the table and left the hall.  
  
Ginny sat there, stunned. "What is she doing?" she wondered aloud.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
What she was doing was trying to make a clean break of their relationship. She went up   
to Neville's dorm room and opened the door, checking to see if anyone was there. She   
sighed in relief. It was empty. She walked over to Neville's bed. Half-made, as usual. The   
blankets were lumpy and the pillows disarranged. She automatically straightened them,   
and stared at the bed. His bed symbolized his problem (not like that, you perverts).   
Despite that fact that Neville had improved significantly over the past 3 years, he still left   
so many things half-done. He had never told her that his parents were in St. Mungo's.   
She had to overhear Harry and Ron talking to learn of it. Hot anger welled within her as   
she remembered how hurt she had been, that Neville didn't trust her enough to tell her on   
that wonderful day when she thought that they had told each other pretty much   
everything. And then the fight with Draco. She had been so scared that he would get   
seriously hurt, but he carelessly brushed aside her fears as if they were nothing. he   
brushed her aside, during the fight, and as he told the story of his heroics to his friends .  
  
Her hand went up to the necklace, then, with a sharp tug, she held the pendant in her   
hand. She stared at it for a few moments, fascinated by its warm glowing in the   
moonlight. It was kind of like Neville . not really much to look at, initially, but, in the   
right light, it glowed and showed its true worth. She shook such traitorous thoughts out of   
her head. "Don't, Hermione." she whispered. "Don't make this harder than it has to be   
." She squeezed the moonstone one last time, then carefully placed it on Neville's   
pillow.   
  
She next turned her attention to his desk. Displayed prominently on top of all his dog-  
eared spellbooks was the volume of poetry she had given him. Flipping through it   
quickly, she found the page she was looking for. She ripped it out and, going back to   
Neville's bed, gently placed the page next to the necklace. She took the book with her.   
Tears ran down her face as she ran back to her own room.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Neville was exhausted that night as he got ready for bed. Harry and Ron were trying to   
teach him how to duel. They said it was to help him prepare for the dark times ahead, and   
while that was true, they were also doing it to get Neville's mind off of his problem with   
Hermione for at least a little while. So every night in the Gryffindor Common Room,   
they practiced some of their more harmless curses and hexes on each other. Neville had   
spent most of the night under the Tap Dance Hex, because Ron, who cast the spell on   
him, had no idea how to take it off. So he performed all of the dance numbers for   
"Singing in the Rain," for his delighted (if unintentional ) audience before Harry   
remembered how to take it off. He shook his tousled head at the memory and, yawning,   
hopped into bed. He had just laid his weary head on the pillow when he noticed that his   
head wasn't the only thing occupying it. He reached for his wand and, catching hold of it,   
whispered, "Lumos." He squinted curiously at the objects on the pillow. He sighed as he   
recognized the necklace that he had given Hermione for Christmas. But what was the   
writing on the paper? He picked that up, and, recognizing that it was from the poetry   
book that Hermione had given him, began to read.  
  
So, we'll go no more a-roving  
So late into the night,  
Though the heart be still as loving,  
And the moon be still as bright.  
  
For the sword outwears its sheath,  
And the soul wears out the breast,  
And the heart must pause to breathe,  
And love itself have rest.  
  
Though the night was made for loving,  
And the day returns too soon,  
Yet we'll go no more a-roving   
By the light of the moon.  
  
By the time he had finished, he felt drained. He tried to stifle his sobs so that he wouldn't   
wake anyone up and have to explain what was going on. Putting out his light, he lay back   
down, staring at the ceiling. He clutched the paper and necklace tightly in his hands. He   
lay like that the whole night, finally falling asleep as the sun cast its first warm rays into   
the room.   
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
An hour or so later, Harry jumped out of bed in an unusually good mood. It was, after all,   
New Year's Eve. He decided to try and spread some of the good cheer to Neville. He   
reflected that he needed it, if ever anyone did. He pulled aside the Neville's curtains, and   
saw that he was fast asleep, tears drying on his face. Harry winced guiltily, ashamed that   
he had burst in on such an intimate scene. He resolved to just close the curtains, thanking   
God that Neville was such a heavy sleeper, when he noticed that he had a paper clutched   
in his hands. The top two buttons of Neville's nightshirt were undone, and Harry saw the   
necklace that Neville had given Hermione around his neck. Harry really wanted to see   
what the paper said, but he didn't know if he could pry it out of Neville's hand without   
waking him up. After a few anxious and tense minutes, the paper was free, and Harry   
quickly read its contents. "You picked Byron, Hermione? How melodramatic. Why   
didn't you just rip his heart out at dinner last night and eat it? It probably would have hurt   
him less," Harry muttered, perhaps a little too loudly in his anger, because Neville's eyes   
fluttered open.   
  
"Har- Harry? Whaddaya doin'?" he mumbled, sitting up and rubbing his puffy eyes.  
  
Harry decided to tell the truth. "Neville, I just saw the necklace. And read the poem. I'm   
sorry," he said simply.   
  
Neville was fully awake now. His gray eyes showed their first signs of life in two days as   
they flashed dangerously. He opened his mouth . Harry fully expected to be bawled out   
. but then, just as the sound was about to come, he sat back, the fire quenched, and   
mumbled, "It's okay. You would've found out anyway."  
  
Harry was filled with a sudden anger at Neville's relapse back into listlessness. "Damn it,   
Longbottom, what's the matter with you?" he bellowed. Heedless of the fact that he was   
waking up the rest of the room, he continued. "If you want her, go after her! Don't just   
roll over and die!"  
  
For a moment, Neville just sat in his bed, blinking owlishly at Harry. Then, with a yell of   
anger, he flew off the bed and grabbed the poem from Harry's hand. "DON'T YOU   
THINK I'VE TOLD MYSELF THE SAME THING?!?" he shouted as he crumpled the   
poem in his hands. He took a deep breath and continued, somewhat calmer. "She told me   
that we're over. I've tried to reason, but ." he shrugged and looked at the floor so that   
Harry couldn't see his tears.  
  
"That's your problem, Neville," said Ron, sticking his head out of the curtains around his   
bed.   
  
Neville yelped.   
  
"Sorry, to startle you, Neville," Ron said, throwing open his curtains. "I couldn't help but   
overhear your conversation with Harry here -"  
  
"Me either," said another voice. Seamus Finnigan opened his curtains as well.  
  
"Or me," Dean said, hopping out of bed.  
  
"Great," Neville moaned. "Let's just make this a room wide concern, shall we?"  
  
"Sounds good," Ron grinned. "As I was saying, Neville, your problem lays with your   
approach. You said you tried to REASON with her. You've gotta sweep her off her feet.   
Do something spectacular. Something . magical."  
  
Seamus groaned. "He's screwed."  
  
"Hey," Neville said defensively. "I'm getting better!"  
  
"Yes, he is," confirmed Harry. "But what can he do to impress Hermione? She can do   
just about every spell known to mankind."  
  
"Well," Ron said, "Considering that it's Neville, she'll be impressed if he could get on a   
broomstick." Neville threw a pillow at him. "Oof!"   
  
"Does anyone have ANY ideas?" asked Dean despairingly.   
  
"How about some fireworks that say 'I Love You, Hermione', or something like that?"   
asked Seamus. "We could even make them pink, eh?" he winked, poking Neville in the   
ribs.  
  
"Why do you associate me with the color pink?" asked Neville, slapping away Seamus'   
elbow.  
  
He shrugged. "I dunno, mate. You just strike me as a 'pink' sort of man." His freckled   
face broke out in a grin.  
  
Neville bristled. "I'll try not to take offense," he said stiffly.  
  
"Hey, guys, can we back to the issue at hand?" Harry asked. All eyes turned towards him.   
"Anyway, Neville doesn't need to do MUCH magic. He just has to be really romantic."  
  
"Then he's still screwed," Seamus piped up.  
  
"Yeah, and WHO got the girl?" reminded Neville.  
  
"Not for very long, Longbottom, and THAT'S why we're here. Gotta bail your sorry ass   
outta trouble."  
  
Neville rolled his eyes. "Seamus, when have you ever gotten yourself out of   
trouble?"  
  
"GUYS!" Harry roared. "Can we get back on track?" All eyes turned back towards him.   
"Alright, Neville, you should do something tonight. It's New Year's Eve. You know, it's   
all about new beginnings and romantic crap like that."  
  
"What should I do?" asked Neville, rubbing his forehead. This was too much for one boy   
working on an hour of sleep to solve.  
  
"Well," said Ron, snatching the paper out of Neville's hand, and reading it, "It looks like   
she still loves you, Neville. That makes it a bit easier."  
  
"Yeah, whatever," dismissed Neville. "It basically says she loves me, but can't go out   
with me anymore, 'cause she's tired or whatever."  
  
"Then you should give her a PepperUp Potion or something," said Dean excitedly.  
  
"Oh, and that'll work," said Neville sarcastically.   
  
"There's a loophole in here ." Ron muttered, rereading the poem. "It just says she can't   
go a-roving by the light of the moon. Doesn't say anything about day."  
  
"Oh ." said Harry.  
  
"What?" Neville asked desperately.  
  
Ron and Harry explained that the loophole to Neville, Seamus, and Dean. "How am I   
going to stop the sun from setting?" Neville asked irritably.  
  
"I dunno," Ron said nonchalantly. "We'll have to check out the Restricted Book section   
of the library."  
  
"Why couldn't Hermione just be impressed with me stepping foot inside the library?"   
groaned Neville.  
  
"She probably would, Neville," said Dean, grinning. "But that's not romantic, now, is   
it?"  
  
"We'll have to use your invisibility cloak, Harry," Ron said.   
  
"No problem," Harry said. "When're we going to do this?"  
  
Ron checked his watch. "It's pretty early now, 5:04, and it's a Saturday. And it's   
Christmas break. I think we'll be okay if we go now."  
  
Harry nodded. "All right. You, me, and Neville. Dean, Seamus, think up a way that we   
could get Hermione by herself."  
  
Everyone went into action. Dean and Seamus began plotting. Harry, Ron, and Neville   
snuck up to the library as fast as they could go. When they finally made it, trying to stifle   
their heavy breathing, they glanced around. Deserted. "Excellent," Ron whispered. "Now,   
what're we looking for?"  
  
"The Restricted Book section, you dolt," whispered Harry.   
  
"I know that, but do you know what book would have how to extend the day or stop the   
sun from setting or anything like that?" asked Ron.  
  
"Not a clue," replied Harry, running a hand through his wild black hair. "Hey," he said,   
in a normal voice, "Where's Neville?"  
  
"Shh, you moron!" Ron whispered furiously. "Do you want to get us caught?"  
  
"Neville's gone!" Harry said.  
  
"Hey, guys? Do you think that a book called Time Altering Magic is the thing we're   
looking for?" called Neville from the Restricted Book section.  
  
"How could someone as smart as Hermione fall for someone as dorky as Neville   
Longbottom?" sighed Ron.  
  
"Kinda boggles the mind, doesn't it?" grinned Harry. "Well, it looks like we won't be   
needing this now," he said, tossing the cloak off.   
  
Ron yelped. "But - But-"  
  
"Stop spluttering. If we were gonna get caught, we'd have been caught by this time. Ease   
up, Ron. You're starting to remind me of Percy."  
  
"Ouch," said Ron ruefully. "There was no call for that, Potter."   
  
"Let's go find Neville before he does anything stupid," said Harry.  
  
"Too late," muttered Ron. "17 years too late."  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
The two walked over to Neville. He eagerly thrust the book at Harry, gray eyes gleaming   
hopefully at him. Harry sighed slightly, took the book, and began leafing through it. Ron   
read over his shoulder.   
  
After a couple of agonizing minutes, Harry cried, "Aha! Here it is!" He pointed a Day   
Extending Spell out to Ron. Ron nodded sagely. Neville couldn't take it anymore.   
  
"What? What is it? Is it easy?!?" He was almost beside himself with excitement and   
anxiety.   
  
Harry laid the book on a nearby table, and the three clustered around to read the spell.   
After reading what he would need to do, Neville ran a hand through his sandy brown hair,   
making it stand on end. He looked at Harry and Ron with sorrowful eyes. "Sorry, mates,   
but there's no way in hell that I'm going to be able to perform this spell." He sighed   
deeply, and turned to go.  
  
"Wait a minute," called Harry.   
  
"Harry," Neville sighed, "You're my friend. You know my capabilities. You know that I   
can't perform this spell."   
  
His gray eyes looked incredibly old and tired to Harry, but he tried to ignore that. "Look,   
Neville, we can help you out." He looked to Ron to back him up in that assertion, and   
Ron nodded his red head vigorously.  
  
Neville frowned. "But how will all this be romantic?" he asked despairingly. "How is   
having my friends help me with a spell romantic at all?"  
  
"She doesn't have to know that we helped at all," Ron piped up.  
  
Harry shook his head. "No, she'll know that we helped Neville, but that's okay," he   
added hastily, seeing Neville crossing his arms over his chest, "that doesn't make it any   
less romantic."  
  
"Right," Neville said skeptically, arms still across his chest.  
  
"It won't," assured Ron. "It's the thought that counts, remember?" He punched Neville's   
arm reassuringly.  
  
"Exactly," said Harry, giving Neville what he hoped was a winning smile.   
  
Neville weakly smiled back. "I'm willing to give anything a try at this point," he   
admitted sheepishly. "So, what do we need to do?"  
  
The boys took their booty back to their room as fast as they could. Once there, they pored   
over the spell for a couple of hours before breakfast. They discussed their strategy over   
their eggs and pancakes.  
  
"Do you think this is gonna work, Harry?" asked Neville worriedly, as he poured syrup   
over his pancakes with a generous hand.   
  
Harry nodded. "Yeah, why wouldn't it?" he asked around a mouthful of ham.  
  
"It's gonna be a LOT of work, blokes," reminded Ron. "Pass me the salt, will you,   
Dean?"  
  
Dean did as he was asked, then asked, "How long will the Day Extending Spell take to   
perform?"  
  
Neville sighed deeply. "Six hours," he said.   
  
Seamus whistled. "You up to that, Neville?"  
  
"Not really," Neville said wryly. "That's why Harry and Ron offered to help me. That   
way, it might actually work."  
  
"When do you start?" asked Dean.  
  
"After breakfast," Ron replied. "Why?"  
  
"So I can get out of there before you guys blow something up," Dean answered, grinning.  
  
"Oh, ha ha," Harry said sarcastically, glaring at Dean. "Nothing's going to happen, Dean,   
except that Hermione is going to be really impressed, and forgive Neville, and everything   
will be wonderful again." He gave Neville a confident smile.  
  
"You've got your work cut out for you," observed Seamus, looking at Hermione.  
  
All eyes turned to look at her. She was sitting with Ginny, Cho, and Lavender. She   
looked as if her heart had turned to stone. She didn't laugh, didn't smile, didn't even   
hardly blink.  
  
"Let's start that spell now," said Ron, looking at Neville's face. It had turned painfully   
white.  
  
Harry noticed Neville's face too. "Right. Let's go," he said authoritatively, pushing back   
his chair.   
  
Neville listlessly tossed his napkin back on the table and followed Harry and Ron back to   
their room, trying his hardest not to look at Hermione on the way.   
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
The spell itself wasn't that complex; it was just very meticulous and exacting -- the two   
things that Neville was horrible at. Luckily, the ingredients for the potion that he'd have   
to drink right before he performed the spell were very common. All of them were in their   
potion kits. As they stirred it together, Neville sent up a silent prayer that this idea would   
work.  
  
While they were waiting for the potion to combine completely, Ron read the history of   
the spell aloud. "The popularity of the Day Extending Spell dates from medieval times.   
Invented by Cedric the Clever in 1066 AD, the Day Extending Spell's original intended   
use was to effectively "halt day" so that the Anglo-Saxon army of King Harold could   
send for reinforcements and thereby defeat the invader William of Normandy.   
Unfortunately for Harold and Roland, that was found to be useless for that purpose, as   
the effect only lasts for ten minutes. Nowadays, the Day Extending Spell is found to be   
more practical in wooing, as it tends to give everything a romantic dream-like quality ."   
Ron looked up to see if they were suitably impressed.   
  
Harry grinned. "This is going to be good."  
  
"It better be," Neville muttered, tentatively sniffing the potion. "Ugh. This is going to be   
disgusting."   
  
"Oh, belt up," Ron ordered impatiently. "Didn't Harry and I have to drink that ghastly   
Polyjuice Potion? And we survived. Besides, you're doing this to get Hermione back. Is   
she worth it?"  
  
Neville glanced at the murky potion again. "Yeah, I suppose so," he said meekly.  
  
"You suppose so? What kind of an attitude is that?" Harry asked.   
  
"Realistic," Neville sighed. "The chances of me pulling this off are really small, and the   
chances of her being impressed by this little trick if I do pull it off are even smaller."  
  
Ron grinned. "Look at it this way. If you can pull this off, and if she is impressed, then   
it'll be worth it, right?"  
  
Neville nodded.  
  
Ron continued. "And if she isn't impressed, well, you really haven't lost anything,   
because, quite frankly, you're at rock bottom right now."  
  
"Oh, that was supportive," Harry said, glaring at Ron.  
  
Ron shrugged. "Sorry, Neville. I -" He was interrupted by Dean and Seamus rushing in   
and slamming the door behind them.  
  
"What's going on, mates?" Harry questioned coolly.   
  
"Her - Hermione . she's alone . right now . out by the lake," Dean gasped out.  
  
Neville froze. Harry thought he rather resembled a rabbit Dudley had had once for a   
couple of days. He had the same terrified yet cuddly and completely innocent look that   
Mr. Cottontail had just before Dudley would come to see him. "You'll do fine, Neville,"   
he warmly assured, clapping a reassuring hand on Neville's shoulder.  
  
"C'mon," Ron urged. "The potion's about ready now." He began ladling it into a hip   
flask.   
  
"All right, Neville," Harry said. "When you see Hermione, drink ALL of the Day   
Extending Potion, point your wand at the sun and say 'Largo Sol'. Then, do something   
romantic. I'm sure something'll come to mind."  
  
Neville let out a small terrified squeak. Ron sighed angrily. "Listen, Neville. Are you   
man or mouse? Because right now, you sound like a mouse to me."  
  
"He's reverted back to the old scared Neville," Seamus whispered to Harry. "Do   
something!"  
  
"Neville," began Harry.   
  
"What?" squeaked Neville.  
  
"You've got to do this now. You can't afford to miss this opportunity. You don't know   
when she'll be alone again."  
  
"I c-c-can't!" Neville whispered.  
  
"Damn it, Longbottom!" Harry said. "You're going. Now." He quickly picked up the   
flask, shoved it into Neville's hands, pushed him out of the door, and locked it behind   
him. "There," he said, smiling at the group. "Once he gets started, he'll be fine. Really!"   
he added, noticing the skeptical looks on their faces.   
  
On the other side of the door, Neville took in a deep breath, and squared his shoulders.   
He realized that it was basically a now-or-never situation. Tucking the hip flask into a   
pocket of his robes, he walked down to the lake in search of Hermione.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Every step was an effort for Neville as he made his way slowly to the lake. Two sides of   
his personality were waging a furious battle in his head. He knew he could take the easy   
way out by just running away. But then he'd never have Hermione back. He shook his   
head. Losing Hermione wasn't an option. He tightened his jaw and kept walking. His step   
was lighter as he walked out of the castle.   
  
After a few minutes, he saw her. She was slowly walking along the water's edge, head   
down, obviously deep in thought. She was completely oblivious to the gorgeous winter   
day. It had finally stopped snowing, and, since it was late afternoon, the sun was   
beginning to set, throwing yellow and crimson color everywhere. The trees reflected the   
rays of the setting sun, making the whole scene reminiscent of a gorgeous autumn   
twilight. Neville sighed. This is perfect, he thought to himself. Now, if only I can be this   
perfect .  
  
He pulled the hip flask out of his pocket and quickly drank it down. Surprisingly, it tasted   
like honey. Smiling slightly, he pulled out his wand and said, "Largo Sol!"  
  
Hermione heard someone yelling a spell. She instinctually reached for her wand, but she   
noticed things were different somehow. Nothing felt quite real . She looked around   
quickly. A bird lazily floated across the sky. She squinted disbelievingly at it. No bird   
could possibly fly that slow and still be in the air! What was going on? The landscape   
looked like something out of a Monet painting. There were no definite lines or borders to   
anything. She whirled around, and saw Neville walking toward her. Her heart skipped a   
beat. "Neville!" she called. "What's going on?"  
  
Neville smiled warmly as he held out his hands. Without thinking, she grabbed them. He   
pulled her into his arms and held her close. "Hermione, I'm so sorry about that fight with   
Draco. It's just that he insulted you, and I couldn't -"  
  
"I know," Hermione said softly. "I know that now. I've been extremely foolish. I was out   
here trying to figure out a way to make up with you. I'm the one who is sorry, Neville.   
Can you forgive me for flying off the handle? Ever since I did, I've felt terrible." Her   
brown eyes filled with tears.   
  
"Shh ." Neville put his fingers to her lips to hush her words. "It doesn't matter. It's in   
the past. The only thing I care about is the future . and you."  
  
Hermione threw her arms around his neck and burst into tears. "Oh, Neville!"  
  
They were deep in their embrace when they heard strains of a song. Neville looked up,   
puzzled. "What is that?"  
  
Hermione listened for a moment, then threw her head back and laughed. Seeing Neville's   
confusion, she said, "It's 'Ain't Too Proud to Beg'. It's a Muggle song. By a group   
called, 'The Temptations'."   
  
Neville listened for a moment, then began to laugh as well. "Care to dance?" he asked.   
  
"I'd love to."  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Harry and Ron watched from the dance from the top of a nearby tree. "Harry, what is that   
song?" Ron asked.   
  
"Just a little something to lighten the moment," Harry answered with a mischievous   
gleam in his eyes, putting his wand back in his pocket.   
  
Ron grinned. "Did you do that?"  
  
Harry waggled his eyebrows in response. "Do you think I'd let the whole thing get all   
soppy and mushy while we're watching? You have virgin eyes, boy."  
  
Ron rolled his eyes. "Yeah, and this is coming from the bloke who didn't even date until   
last year!"  
  
"Hey, I was just saving myself!" Harry said defensively.  
  
"For what?!? Professor McGonagall?"  
  
"What kind of sick pervert are you, Weasley? This is not 'The Graduate'! "  
  
Ron grinned. "Coo coo cachoo, Mrs. Robinson."  
  
Their bickering was interrupted by a voice from below calling up, "What are you doing   
up there?"   
  
Harry and Ron looked down to see Neville's amused face and Hermione's somewhat   
cross one looking up at them. "Were you spying on us?" she asked, hands on hips.  
  
Ron blushed. "Erm -- no, we were just . "  
  
"Bird watching!" Harry supplied.   
  
Neville grinned. "Not my bird, I hope."   
  
Hermione punched him in the shoulder. "Watch your mouth, Longbottom."  
  
"Sorry, dear," he said contritely.  
  
Hermione stabbed her index finger downwards, yelling, "Get down and explain what the   
hell's going on, gentlemen!" Though her face and tone were severe, Neville saw her eyes   
twinkling and her mouth twitching at the corners.   
  
Harry and Ron quickly scrambled down out of the tree and stood before her, refusing to   
meet her eyes, preferring instead to make patterns in the snow with their feet.  
  
"So . what's going on?" she asked coolly.  
  
"Yeah!" Neville supported, trying to glare at Ron and Harry.   
  
"You, too, Neville. What was that spell you used? And what was with the music?"  
  
"Neville used the Day Extending Spell," Ron said, finally meeting Hermione's eyes.   
"Pretty cool, huh?" he asked, attempting to lighten her mood.   
  
Hermione couldn't keep up her stern face anymore. "Oh, hell, I couldn't be mad at   
anyone right now, even you two asses ," she said, breaking out into a grin. "Yeah, it   
actually was pretty cool. Neville didn't do it by himself, did he?"  
  
"Hey!" Neville exclaimed.   
  
"Sorry," she said, giving him an apologetic hug and kiss on the cheek. "It's just that   
it's -"  
  
"The truth," Harry finished, laughing. "Yeah, we helped him out, but only because he   
was an absolute wreck -- all mopey and melodramatic. The boys couldn't take it anymore.   
Besides," he added, "It was all Neville, anyway. He had to practically drag Ron and me   
into it. And all we did was give him a little bit of guidance."  
  
Neville gave him a surprised and thankful look over the top of Hermione's head. Harry   
winked.  
  
"But now," he continued, "the spell's worn off, and it's starting to get dark." He looked   
up at the sky. "You know what that means, don't you, Ron?" he asked, looking   
exaggeratedly at Neville and Hermione, who were now only paying attention to each   
other.  
  
Ron knew what Harry was getting at. "It means . erm . it's time for us to go. Yes,   
time to go and eat supper." So they tramped back to the castle, leaving Neville and   
Hermione to themselves.   
  
Hermione turned to Neville. "That spell was really impressive," she said as they walked  
back to the castle.  
  
Neville shrugged. "It was nothing," he said modestly.   
  
She laughed. "Whatever. I know the work you must have put into that idea. I just want  
to say, though, that wasn't the reason we're back together."  
  
Neville looked at her, puzzled. "Why are we, then?"  
  
She grinned. "I think it's your serendipity at work again."  
  
Neville smiled as he recalled their conversation. "I'm not going to question it," he replied.  
  
"Cool," she said.   
  
"Cool? Is that all you have to say? Whatever happened to the big vocabulary?" he asked  
playfully.  
  
"Hey, it worked for you," she teased. "Now, let's continue this conversation inside. Race   
you," she said, and took off running, leaving Neville behind.   
  
"Hey! That's cheating!" he yelled, scooping up some snow and running after her.  
  
And so, we'll leave our happy pair racing towards the castle and having a snowball fight at   
the same time. And, as all (good) stories say, they lived happily ever after.  
  



End file.
